


Crowned in Glories

by gotfanfiction



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Age Regression/De-Aging, Drunkenness, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: 5 times Jaskier gave Geralt a flower crown + 1 time Geralt gave Jaskier a flower crownHe's actually spent all day wandering off the path to pick flowers, much to Geralt’s annoyance
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 210





	Crowned in Glories

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii this has been written for a while but I just got around to posting it <333
> 
> This is the other fic I outlined when I was in the psych hospital aksjfkf Have fun ;>

-5.

It's only been a month or so, and while Jaskier is sure that they are well on the path to becoming the very best friends, Geralt is still being a bit of, well, a bit of an ice queen, looking always a little surprised that yes, Jaskier was sitting across the fire, humming and playing his gifted lute. 

He's actually spent all day wandering off the path to pick flowers, much to Geralt’s annoyance, but he is determined to do this. Jaskier is out of practice with this, but he does remember, more or less, how it's done. It's a bit lopsided, and bruised, and none of the flowers really go together, but he's passingly proud of his creation nonetheless. 

He keeps it secret, somehow, while they make a camp and get ready for the night. Jaskier is walking behind Geralt, sat close to the fire, tending to their dinner, and drops it on his head with a laugh, tells him not to ruin all his hard work. 

Geralt, surprisingly, doesn't, although he does take it off after only a few minutes. The Witcher is making a face that is the closest Jaskier has ever seen to a smile. It's- nice.

-4. 

Jaskier had just gotten back from performing at a festival, cheeks rosy with wine, pockets full of coin, only staggering a little on his way up to Geralt’s room up the stairs at the inn they'd rented rooms at for the night. He bounces off the door when he misses the handle, and is still giggling about it as he slips in, sure of his silent steps but absolutely making so much noise. 

He collapses on top of Geralt, who is groaning at him, not appreciating being awoken by and then pawed at by his drunken friend. He whispers, "Pay  _ attention _ to me, Geralt," but Geralt is not having it, tired and grumpy, and tries to push him off the bed and himself, but Jaskier just clings to him like a limpet.

And now they're both of them on the floor, Jaskier shrieking with laughter, Geralt under him and winded from the landing but smiling, and Jaskier desperately wants to kiss him, but wouldn't that end just so terribly, really, it would, and he puts his flower crown on Geralt's head; it's wilted and ugly and Jaskier laughs again and harder because of  _ course _ Geralt still looks gorgeous. 

They end up sleeping in the same bed again, and when they wake up the next morning, Jaskier hungover and blushing, Geralt suggests that they just stop wasting coin on separate rooms.

-3. 

Julian is not panicking, he swears. He just… doesn't know where he is, but Geralt said he would keep them safe and he believes him, honest, he's just a little scared, still. Not of Geralt, even though he's got funny eyes, and his hair is half red and half white, and he screams even worse than Julian does in his sleep. 

Geralt explains, after a fitful night's rest, that they've probably been cursed. Julian agrees, because none of their clothes fit and they're both very far from home. Julian keeps himself busy plucking at his  _ beautiful _ lute -he has a lute! and it's so lovely!- and weaving flowers together. Not helpful, but he doesn't know how to do much, and he is embarrassed by it. 

Geralt  _ says _ it's okay, but it probably isn't.

Julian can never do anything right, not really, but he  _ can _ do this, and he gives Geralt a crown to match his with a nervous smile. The other boy puts it on, wide eyed, cheeks only just barely dusted with pink, and, feeling suddenly very bold, Julian leans in and presses a chaste little kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth and then- 

-flowers are drifting around them, their clothes fit again, though they both have to unroll and uncuff, and, in Geralt’s case, apply some balm on the rope burn he just got from his improvised belt tearing against his skin before it snapped. 

Jaskier- says nothing. He's not feeling so bold anymore.

-2.

The less said about the incident in Novigrad the better. Just. Don’t accept gifts from strange men who insist on kissing your cheek before letting you leave their dim, smoky tent. 

Jaskier is never going to be able to drink white wine again without smelling the overpowering scent of whatever flowers had been in that crown he'd given to Geralt. 

He thanked the gods that Geralt didn't seem to remember much of what happened that night, even as he cursed them for not blessing him with the same faulty memory.

-1.

They were both sober for once, no magic in sight, just them on the road to Kaer Morhen, which Jaskier was absolutely not panicking about, not even a little bit, seriously. He hadn't ever really expected an invitation, had had to cancel his plans to return to Oxenfurt to teach, not that he would ever have considered anything but accepting. 

It wasn't entirely winter quite yet, despite the chill in the air; Geralt was still taking contracts as they made their way to the Blue Mountains, to his home, and Jaskier was doing his best to fill the saddlebags on his newly acquired horse with presents to smooth over his introduction. He wasn't above bribery; as a matter of fact, it was one of his favorite pastimes.

Speaking of, he spotted a bouquet of late blooming flowers, surprised to see them, but less surprised at the price. He would have to be much more careful with this one than usual; his materials were limited after all. 

By the time Geralt had returned from his latest hunt Jaskier had managed to put together a crown that was much leafier than his usual, but lovely still. Geralt had busied himself with his bath, tired but not overly so, leaning into Jaskier's hands as he washed his Witcher’s pretty mop of hair, smiling when he felt the familiar tugs that meant Jaskier was putting flowers in his hair again.

Jaskier held up his hand mirror so that Geralt could admire his work, and he shakes his head at him but his smile only deepens, settling warmly somewhere in Jaskier's chest.

+1

Most people seemed surprised at how crafty Geralt was; he could sew, knit, draw, all sorts of things that one wouldn't assume a Witcher to be skilled at, and Jaskier had been one of them, at least at first. But he had been with Geralt for years now, had stayed at Kaer Morhen for a handful of winters, so he was now well aware of Geralt's many and varied skills.

Geralt was often subjected to Jaskier’s pretty little pout as the bard begged him to repair his clothes. Rough living was hard on fine fabrics, no matter how sturdy, and he usually gave in after only a few minutes, just so he wouldn't have to deal with Jaskier making his eyes inexplicably even bigger and brighter. 

He did have to admit to being mildly shocked at how well this had come out. Or that it had even come out  _ at all.  _ He'd never made anything like this before; it was a little embarrassing, so obviously made  _ so _ carefully, just for Jaskier, and you could tell just by looking at it that it had taken care, and time, and it  _ had-  _ he'd started it the second year of knowing Jaskier, but hadn't  _ really _ began until last winter.

He'd spent a while  _ this _ year just gathering the materials he needed and making as much of it as he could while Jaskier was sleeping or traveling away from him, for whatever reason. The last soft petal was finally stitched into place, and all he had left to do was give it to him.

Which he was going to do. Sometime. Possibly even soon. Definitely before either of them died. 

He cursed his own cowardice, and Jaskier's strange way of being easy to be around but immensely difficult to speak to. 

It's late one evening, the fire flickering low in his room, and Jaskier has invited himself in the way he always does, and it's getting to the point of the night where he'll claim to be too tired to find his own room and crawl into Geralt's bed, when Geralt finally summons enough courage to bring out his gift and actually… give it to him.

Jaskier is gaping in shock, gently touching the delicate petals wrapped around a deceptively sturdy wooden frame. Geralt takes it from him and places it on his head, and Jaskier stands up, and kisses Geralt so deeply and thoroughly that it leaves him dazed and gasping for air. 

The next morning, Jaskier has refused to take it off, reaches up to touch it every few minutes, and Geralt's brothers are absolutely laughing at him, but he's never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Hang out with me on twitter @gotfanfiction ;]


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